


shaped the century

by smileybagel



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Drabble, Gen, Hurt No Comfort, M/M, Memory Loss, Panic Attack, Recovery, Roleplay Inspired
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-21
Updated: 2014-04-21
Packaged: 2018-01-20 06:53:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1500923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smileybagel/pseuds/smileybagel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>there's nothing quite like being rushed with over seven decades of memory in the span of five minutes</p>
            </blockquote>





	shaped the century

**Author's Note:**

> I run @actual_amnesiac on twitter and during a small rp with @actual_captainA I wrote up a quick drabble to go with it. Twitter character limits suck.

Memories were rushing through his skull, threatening to spill out of his mouth like vomit. He couldn’t make sense of it all now that things on the outside calmed down, now that Steve was laying beside him, blissed out and dead to world in his sleep. Bucky had that to distract him before, but in the silence of the room and with only his own rapid breathing as company, the thoughts and memories slammed into him like a freight train.

_Like the train I fell from._

He tried calming breaths, tried to hold himself steady, telling himself the same soothing words he used to use on Steve when the then-scrawny kid had an asthma attack. It didn’t work, nothing worked. 

His hands found their way to either side of his head, grasping at the shorter hairs (Steve cut it, he cut it because I wanted him to,) and tugging. Bucky’s eyes were blown wide and he pulled his legs up to his chest, heaving on the bed, trying desperately to keep quiet.

Brooklyn. The orphanage. The war, Steve getting 4F 4F 4F. The Stark Expo, Germany, captured. Zola, _Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes._

Rescued, rescued, _I thought you were smaller. I thought you were dead_.   Falling, and it’s really cold, so cold Bucky can feel the snow, the biting air around him as he falls, falls, falls.

_Till’ the end of the line._

_You shaped the century, I need you to do it again._

Howard, Maria. He has a son, _a son_ , and he’s going to be a genius and he’s going to be without a father, Bucky, that blood is on your hands. How many years has it been now. He can’t remember.

_Wipe him._

Mission start, mission complete. Failure is not an option. _Hail Hydra._

The man on the bridge ( _Steve, oh god Steve_ ). 

_I knew him._

Bucky flinched, the thoughts in his head quieting until only one series of memories remained (my arm, it’s broken, I can’t feel it), and he saw the light catch on the metal appendage he now wore. The Winter Soldier’s trademark, the feature that proved his identity to his enemies when he revealed, the arm that had crushed skulls between its fingers-

_Oh god._

"Get it off, get it off." Bucky no longer cared about staying quiet, too intent on ripping the metal arm from his flesh. The fingers of his right hand dug into the seam with skin and metal met, nails pressing in until they broke the skin. Pain blossomed but he didn’t care, didn’t notice.

"I don’t want it, take it off, get it off, _please.”_  


End file.
